


Electric Movement

by winninghearts



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post Reichenbach, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-18
Updated: 2012-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-29 18:06:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winninghearts/pseuds/winninghearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt:</p><p>Sherlock/Molly. He has a head injury, he's come so close to death and he feels so alive right now. She's terrified of what she's helped happen, she's relieved and excited that it worked. Emotions all over the place for them both.</p><p>They have random desperate life-affirming passionate sex on the spur of the moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Electric Movement

She would have told him not to sleep because of his head injury, but there was really no need. Sherlock Holmes was electrically awake at that moment; he could not stop moving and pacing around her flat, hands shaking erratically, unsure of what to do next. Her flat was the only safe place for him for the time being and Molly could hardly believe that he was here, leaning against her chaise lounge and wearing pyjamas left behind by an ex-boyfriend. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since he dove off the top of St. Bart's.

“You should sit at least,” she said, leaning over the side of her bed to Sherlock, who was drumming his nails rapidly on top of her television set. He looked at her, seeming barely aware, and something in him made him nod. He took a seat on the very edge of her bed, and Molly slid back closer to the pillows. Her heart was thrumming dramatically, and not just from the proximity of Sherlock Holmes on her bed. Everything that had happened in the last day, there had hardly been a moment to catch her breath and suddenly they were just here sitting and everything had actually _worked_.

“I leapt from the top of a very high building,” Sherlock said out of nowhere, turning his head toward her, though it still felt as if he were talking more to himself.

“I know,” Molly said, nodding her head, voice almost a whisper.

“I leapt from the top of a very high building,” Sherlock said again. Suddenly, he let himself fall back onto the bed, an unusual laugh springing from his lips. “I jumped and I lived and it was _exhilarating_. Why have I never tried that before?”

“Probably because the most likely outcome is death,” Molly said, but she couldn't help but laugh with him, crawling closer to where his body lay on her bed, because they had pulled it off. There were certainly many sad days to come, but now they just felt suspended in the moment of being alive. She was still completely taken by surprise, however, when she felt Sherlock's hand come to rest on the outside of her thigh. He had pulled himself up and was now looking at her in a way she could never have imagined, at least not in her more realistic dreams. His breath was heavy, its pattern out of order.

“Sherlock.”

As this was not a direction either way, Sherlock's hand stayed put, and his body began to move even closer to her. Molly felt as if her chest was on fire, as if she could not breath enough. “If you object to this,” Sherlock started to say, words shuddery and not entirely his, but Molly shook her head fiercely. She knew that this chance would not come again soon, or most likely ever. She immediately went to unbutton her blouse, fingers tripping over each other in an attempt to do it as quickly as possible. Sherlock took this moment to begin kissing her roughly, the sensation of which caused Molly to lose complete control of her hands. Sherlock tugged at the blouse she was unable to finish removing, ripping the bottom two buttons off and throwing it to the ground. He pushed her further up the bed with the weight of his body, steadying her against the headboard as her hands reached to remove his own clothes.

She tugged at his bottoms until he kicked them off, living him only in his pants and the white t-shirt she had provided. She could see the outline of him through the fabric, stiff, and without asking, she reached out grabbed him, causing him to let out a strangled gasp against her lips. “Take my skirt off,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut as he moved to suck on her neck. She felt his hand fumbling for the thin zipper in the back. When he finally got it down, she wiggled out of her skirt and kicked it across the room, eagerly kicking her panties off along with them.

Sherlocks hands were eager, running over her body in a frantic manner, but he seemed a little unsure of what to do with them. Molly, though, knew exactly what she wanted to do with them, what she had wanted do with them every time she had watched him wrap his finger around the edge of a microscope, slide them over the keys of his mobile, curve them slightly to pull up the collar of his coat. “Down here,” she said, pulling his hand down between her legs, up against where she was very, very wet. He slowly slipped two long, slender digits inside of her and she could hardly stand how wonderful it felt when they curved slightly inside of her. Slow was not the pace for them at the moment, though, and Molly let Sherlock finger fuck her against the wood of her bed frame until she was almost biting through the skin of her lip to keep from screaming his name. Molly forced her eyes open so she could look down at Sherlock as she came hard around his fingers. Sweat had plastered dark curls to his forehead, and Molly smiled as he pulled his hand away.

Before he could make another move, she climbed over to him, pulling off the shirt that was clinging to his body, then making work of his pants. She placed her hand around him and Sherlock's hips bucked in the air, desperate for something to move against. It was so strange to finally see him like this, after though she had had some similar picture in her head for years as she touched herself. He was so absolutely undone, though, that it seemed almost too rude to linger long in the moment. She lowered herself down onto him and, _oh, God._

She began to move herself up and down slowly, while Sherlock grabbed at her back, nails digging in as he pulled himself closer up to suck on her breasts. It was obviously too torturously slow for Sherlock, who began pushing himself against her, too, fucking her as she fucked him, bodies slapping together. The moved together like that, Molly biting down into the skin of Sherlock's shoulder because she could not do anything else. She felt another orgasm riding up inside of her, and she let herself cry out this time. The sound of her shouting his name must have stirred up even more in him, because Sherlock then began to fuck her even more furiously. She felt it completely, extremely sensitive as she still came down.

“I think I am about to,” Sherlock managed to say. “What should I...?”

“Just pull out,” Molly gasped out, realizing they had forgotten to use protection. “Don't worry about it, just-” He gave her one last, hard thrust before pulling out just in time. After coming, Sherlock lay there quietly for a moment. Molly didn't suppose he wanted to cuddle or anything; that wouldn't be a very him thing to do. She hadn't really thought much of the afterward, but there really wasn't much either could say as they still worked to catch their breath.

After a long while, Molly finally felt the mattress shift next to her. Sherlock sat up and started to reach for his clothes. Aware of her own nakedness but not willing to give up the extreme comfort she felt at the moment, Molly shifted farther under the covers. She watched him gather his things, avoiding her gaze. She hadn't just fucked everything completely up, had she? She realized that she wasn't sure exactly what one did after shagging Sherlock Holmes.

“You didn't do this just because you felt...obligated, did you?” If his answer was yes, Molly felt that should would not mind. After all, it had been a long time since she had entertained the notion that Sherlock Holmes could hold actual, romantic feelings for her. The sex had felt like something she had always wanted and now felt fulfilled in having done. Plus, it had just been...excellent.

“Molly Hooper,” Sherlock said as he dressed, his tone returning to its normal dry demeanor. “If I went around doing that with every person who had ever assisted me in some way, I would never be doing anything else. Don't be ridiculous.” He paused after pulling the shirt back over head. “We have both been through a great deal of excitement and turbulence in a small amount of time, and our adrenaline was racing. It was right for the moment.” He turned around, looking over her chest and her nightstand. “Where are your cigarettes?”

“I don't smoke.”

Sherlock gazed at her a moment, his expression pretty much saying, _Please. Why even bother?_ He then strode over to her closet and reached into the pocket of the house robe, pulling out her secret carton. “If you are going to keep my secret,” he said, tapping one out, “You need to learn to lie better.” He slipped it between his lips, then leaned over the lit candle on her dresser to light the end.

“Would you mind stepping out on the balcony?” Molly asked, sitting up, but pulling the top sheet up over her chest. “Just, I don't want the flat to smell like smoke.”

“Of course.”

He stepped outside, briefly letting in a gust of cold wind as he opened the door. Molly hugged her knees, her entire body feeling warm and well-fucked. She was about to lie back and close her eyes for a moment, suddenly so tired, when Sherlock poked his head back in, holding the cigarette still outside in his left hand. Molly sat up straighter.

“Did you need something else?”

“I just wanted to say- since I didn't say it explicitly, before.” He took a drag of his cigarette, looking down, thoughtful, before blowing the smoke out into the night air. He met her eyes again. “I wanted to say thank you. Most people would not and could not have done what you did for me today. Even if you do not realize it, you saved my life. I do not think I could ever begin to repay you, Molly Hooper.” His eyes then flickered away, and he stepped back outside.


End file.
